I'm not entirely happy with this fic, but eh. The theme of this story changed multiple times while writing it. In the end, I drew inspiration from Ain't No Rest For The Wicked by Cage the Elephant. I... wanted to avoid using fascination-for-Starscream-flying as I've written it twice or so now and wanted to reserve it for a 50_darkfics entry. BUT this fic request has been around a while and called it first. I ultimately decided what I'll do for that prompt, however and hopefully it'll be a change of pace from this. I'm... rambling and my head is kinda jksdhfgjdf so if I'm not making much sense, then you're not alone.

Hur, lots of smoke and exhaust in space. I'm no scientist, so this may be implausible, BUT. This is Transformers, so anything goes.

Title: Wicked
Rated: PG (maybe even PG-13-ish)
Warnings: Mild sexuality (no actual sex)
Pairings: Megatron/Starscream
Summary: TFA 'verse. Starscream uses flight for seduction, but it might just be him whose become seduced.
A/N: For cygnusnebula. Blargh the prompt was for just cocktease and no actual sex and while there's none, I don't really like how I wrote the outcome but whatever. FIC IS FIC.
Disclaimer: I own none none of these chucklefucks.

The Nemesis was worn with age and experience, a warship in her golden years. Yet despite all the rust and damage she took, she was vast and powerful, maintaining an omniscient presence and stubborn will to survive. The silence out here in the middle of nothing but stars, the Nemesis was like a ghost ship wandering aimlessly on still sea water in thick clouds of fog. The appearance told history sordid enough for the wise to avoid. Fools and scavengers had braved the possibility of taking the old ship in for money or parts, but once on board, they never left and their shuttles would serve the original purpose their crew had planned for the Nemesis.

It was not to say the Nemesis was haunted - not entirely. Its size held only a handful of Decepticons, all of which kept their energy signatures cloaked for security. It was these Decepticons those foolish creatures met their ends to. In a sense, however, perhaps "ghosts" was a fitting term. The war had been over for years, the Decepticons scarce and in hiding, Megatron something now an urban legend you told to scare people. But they existed, he existed.

There was no rest for the wicked, after all.

To his knowledge, Megatron was the only Decepticon online that late hour early in the morning. The others were sent to recharge and Blitzwing would be finishing his rounds shortly. Not that Megatron really needed help; they were in a dead universe now. For the past week, nothing but endless black; not a single planet or chunk of debris in sight. This galaxy was worthless and the chances of the Allspark resting in this tomb of lifeless expansion of space was highly unlikely.

The Decepticon leader (of an army now as dead as this universe) sat quietly thinking at his throne, staring out into deep space through the large window spread before him. It was dark in the control room, lighting the area with only hues of black, purple, and red. Megatron's optics were a deep scarlet, processors overworking themselves in an attempt to keep his mind sharp and wits from scattering. My God, it got so damn boring after a while; but he was not about to allow a little boredom from keeping him from his job.

There was no rest for the wicked, he knew.

Megatron kept his optics scanning the various control panels, rows of buttons and levers and viewscreens. Things had been going swimmingly dull, but he did not complain. Unlike certain others...

The ancient Decepticon lifted his head suddenly, where it had been resting against his hand; a light flickered on one radar. A maroon red dot was blipping on the screen, coordinates placing it just outside one of the ship's emergency exits. Speak of the devil. The dot registered as Starscream's energy signature; apparently the Seeker was up and now outside the ship. Whatever for, Megatron did not need to consider when he watched the dot move around the Nemesis and towards the bow.

Megatron raised his head slowly. A moment later, a familiar maroon tetrajet came into view dead center of the window. It hovered there for a moment, nosecone facing the massive ship dozens of times his size. Megatron noted: it was as if Starscream was looking directly at him. From where he was outside, he could see just a sliver of the warlord.

It seemed to dawn on Megatron what the Seeker was staring at, waiting for. He nodded and a second later, the tetrajet whipped around and shot forward. It wasn't his regular speed, one rivaling that of light; he wanted Megatron to keep track of him. The jet flew a distance until he was a dot on the horizon before turning and flying back. Starscream was making a beeline right at the window, in focus with Megatron at its center like a target.

If he wanted to, with his velocity and strength, he would be able to break right through the thick glass. His speed and path line would be registered as an attack if the Nemesis did not know it was Starscream. He'd crash inside and the ship would do nothing until it was too late. Starscream's speed would be just enough to plow right through Megatron as well. However, while this was possible, it was extremely risky and could also fatally wound both parties.

Starscream did not deter from his offense mode. He swooped closer and for a brief moment, the ship considered activating its shields. However, it seemed the Seeker knew it was a foolish, senseless idea and just as he got within twenty yards of the Nemesis, the tetrajet managed to make a graceful swoop upward, stabbing the sky above with his nosecone and barely scraping belly along the window. Starscream flew straight up, higher and higher, leaving behind a patch of steam on the thick glass before disappearing.

Megatron could see everything on the screens surrounding him. Starscream continued flying heavenbound before flipping over and gliding briefly upside down before whirling back upright. Now he was sailing briskly over the top of the giant warship, speed increasing. Megatron could hear the rumble of his excited engines above, optics trained on the screens; Starscream shot through one screen, then another, then another, before sweeping its stern and taking his flight below its belly.

The tetrajet reappeared a few seconds later, snapping into view before the window in a stunning display of twirls and whirls. Sixteen full circles before he finally stilled in one position and shot into a straight line. Starscream's equilibrium was more easier to manage in his alt mode and he showed no signs of dizziness or queasiness. Megatron watched as he kept a singular path, shaking only from the heat and energy surging from his thrusters and engines, before doing a perfect arch; like a flip from a handstand, his belly faced to his leader as he now descended straight downward.

Megatron sat back in his throne, relaxing arms along their rests, one leg folded over the other. His face gave no expression; a default look of ennui. He merely watched his second in command perform his aero-acrobatics outside the ship, optics lingering with something underlining.

Starscream was flying away again. Not as far this time; turning back a minute or so later, he started weaving and swaying purposefully back and forth. Doing two large loops on each side while remaining flat in between. Smoke from his thrusters drew pictures of his accomplishments like blueprints. Ten horizontal 8s, a symbol of eternity, before two threads of puffy white shot downward then back up. These lines like threads from a spool followed the tetrajet as he flew out on his back over the ten eternities he made. Slicing down into a dip, he then flew right through them and his wings and air speed disfigured, destroyed, and tarnished the work he had made.

Through windows and screens, the Decepticon leader watched the jet loop around and around the Nemesis, tying it up in bows of smoke. Once he reached its stern, the jet wandered off and away from the ship for a short distance. He would have gone farther, but Starscream did not trust Megatron just as much as he did him. The chances of Megatron suddenly putting the old rust bucket into hyper drive was highly unlikely but Starscream wouldn't put it past him. Well, then again, Megatron needed him. For what? Now that the war was over, or as Megatron put it, "on standstill".

But there is no rest for the wicked and a wicked mind is always scheming wicked things.

So Starscream quickly turned back, doing an equivalent of a back flip in his alt mode and skimmed the hull of the Nemesis. He could feel her energy tickle and spark at his underside and his engine purred at the taunt but playful flickers. Down he went, right along the front of the window and he briefly saw the old mech watching him closely before he dipped under the warship again.

As before, the tetrajet would reappear and Megatron sat forward in his throne, bridging his hands together. Starscream was now practicing some old war maneuvers. This meant erecting and swiveling his null rays; he never activated them, however, as the Nemesis would react to that as a possible threat. Besides, Starscream was never one to waste ammo if need be. Sure, the war was considered over, but that did not mean he was safe. (Nor were others in his presence.)

There was no rest for the wicked, you see.

So Megatron was left to imagining from old memories blasts of light, power and energy from Starscream's null rays when he did his offensive and defensive flips, twirls, and other such aerodynamics. He knew all of these moves like the back of his hand and he knew when Starscream activated his weapons, knew at what point in his little dance he actually fired. It was too bad Starscream was unaware of his knowing all this.

But least to say, no matter how many times Megatron had seen them, seen his Seeker fly, it was always fascinating. Without a doubt. Starscream would throw in something fresh, even if it was miniscule, in everything he did, in an attempt to both throw others off as well as primp his ego. And the silver mech's scarlet optics narrowed contentedly as he watched the tetrajet finally make his way back.

Starscream's speed was decreasing. The closer he got, the slower he was. Then, a moment later, the hatch door opened just below the massive window. Starscream had activated it, Megatron's hands strewn back over his arm rests, though he sat tall and straight. The tetrajet rumbled and purred softly as it flew inside, leaving exhaust to billow out into open space. Once he landed securely and soundly, the hatch door closed and locked.

Megatron said nothing. Nor did Starscream. The jet took a moment of rest before shifting into movement. Transformation took sequence, various gears and mechanisms twisting and grinding and grunting and hissing as his body reformatted and reshaped itself into something entirely new. Not a minute later did the jet suddenly become a bipedal winged humanoid robot, Starscream himself. On closer inspection, Megatron spotted ice clinging along the length of his second's wings, back, and heels.

Starscream finally broke the silence. "Ahhh. What a pleasant way to jumpstart the orn." He brushed the ice from his arms and with a smirk, looked to his leader. "Did you enjoy the show, my liege?"

"It is good you keep yourself in shape, so to speak," Megatron replied. The ice on his glossa was thicker. "However, your maneuvers are becoming predictable and routine."

Starscream wrinkled his nose but smiled nonetheless. "Oh, yes, I suppose we could all use a little... upgrading," he purred wickedly. Megatron said nothing to that; rather he just watched Starscream move a few feet forward before stretching out his icy wings. The Seeker gave them a shake and they shivered, beating like a humming bird's. The ice fell off in bits and flecks, dirtying the floor around him. This didn't seem to bother him, however.

Megatron would have been irked, but... Watching those wings vibrate and shiver, the way they did so was very reminiscent to the way a frightened creature backed into a wall would make. Specifically the types of shivers he saw on his enemies or those who dared to oppose him. On Starscream, it wasn't an uncommon sight, but this time it was solely in his fluttering wings. The Seeker made something of a pleasant chirp once they were free of the cold ice and he gently pawed at the thin mist lining his helm.

"You're online rather early," Megatron noted. "Your duties don't start for another three cycles."

"I am well rested, my liege," Starscream assured. He stepped forward, heels stomping in an effort to rid them of ice. His thrusters onlined just enough for heat to melt the rest away. He stopped before the Decepticon leader's throne, holding out his hands as if to make an offer. "But surely you must be exhausted. Someone of your..." he paused to sneer. "... Caliber must need lots of stasis recharge."

Megatron just smiled. "Not as much as your overworking... processors."

Starscream smiled back and for a moment both mechs did their best to hold back the venom they wanted to spew. Megatron only because he was in no mood to quarrel. Starscream was slowly becoming insufferable as the days went by, so avoiding arguing with him was a top priority. One of these days he would shoot him out an airlock and leave him to rot alone in some hopefully dead galaxy such as this one.

But neither Decepticon desired a battle of the insults tonight. Rather Starscream let the subject drop (for now) and his smile was all the more wicked than before. But not in a sense of anything harmful. "My lord, you do look a little peaked," he noted and his hands clasped together. "Your shoulder plates look very tense."

"I am at normal functioning levels," Megatron replied. His shoulders did feel a little heavy, but... "Don't concern yourself over my health, Starscream."

Starscream chuckled internally; that was a pretty good joke. But in all seriousness... "Maybe I can help you relax a bit before the others come to make nuisances of themselves?" he offered.

Megatron cocked an optic ridge. "Oh? How so?"

"Allow me to show you," Starscream cooed. Megatron detected no sense of danger in his voice and he allowed the Seeker to climb towards him, all the while keeping his back bent and wings drooped. Always appear weak, always appear humble and smile kindly. Throw them off your scent. The Decepticon leader watched Starscream closely and his frame tensed when his second slid one knee onto the throne, between Megatron's legs.

Megatron stayed put, however. He wasn't afraid; just slightly baffled. It was then that Starscream moved on both knees into his lap. "You're awfully bold this solar cycle," Megatron smirked. Especially when his cannon could easily blast a hole through the Seeker's torso.

But Starscream was not afraid; not now. "I mean no threat, master, so I have no reason to fear," he assured. He spread his legs then, until now they were outside his leader's, knees pushed against the back of the throne and against Megatron's hips. His wings drew back, and his hands very cautiously dropped themselves against the silver mech's shoulders. Megatron watched him closely, but kept his calm.

That's when, like fingers to a piano, Starscream bent his digits forward and began digging into the plating. Megatron gave a brief grimace but nothing more. Although this was borderline painful, it felt good. But Starscream wanted moans, wanted reactions, and reactions and moans he would not get. Still the Seeker tried and he smiled widely at his leader, waiting for the quirk of a brow, the twitch of a lip corner, any sign he was getting figuratively and literally under his plating.

Those palms moved in circular motions, and those fingers were probing at seams along his throat, below his taunt neck wiring. "I hope this... pleases you, my lord," Starscream purred, leaning forward to whisper against the side of his head. Megatron kept quiet, kept still, though his shoulders were soaring.

It wasn't until one finger went in too deep, one claw tip scratched and tore open a small circuit near the surface did Megatron react. He did so by suddenly wrapping his arms around his second's tiny hips and digging his own, though duller, fingers into his back. Just deep enough to leave behind small dents. Starscream heaved and arched a little, surprised more so than hurt.

"O-Oh, do pardon me!" the Seeker apologized with painful insincerity. He drew back the offensive digit, its tip covered in pink liquid. It glowed brightly in the darkness, shaded by streaks of purple. "I seem to have drawn energon," he said and struggled to hide his amusement.

"How clumsy of you," Megatron snorted.

Starscream tried not to take it personally but he did, if not slightly. Lips struggling not to frown, he gently swept a hand along the seam. "I hope your chassis can handle self-repairs for it," he crooned and brushed a thin trail of energon out along his leader's shoulder. Of course this was insulting but he tried to sound so naive and innocent, even as he flicked the energy off his fingers in disgust.

Megatron, however, could see the advantages in all of this. "The same goes for you," he said kindly. Starscream narrowed an optic before Megatron suddenly squeezed his second's wings. This time the pressure was enough to leave thicker, deeper dents. Starscream ground his dental plates together and managed to lessen his scream to a shrill whimper. Not like that helped or anything. He shivered and damn his body for always betraying him. The silver mech would not let his wings go, just continued to squeeze and the slagging bastard, he had to have known those pressure points were amongst some of the most sensitive.

"Hnnk," the Seeker groaned and tried to regain composure, "I can handle it just fine." His wings instinctively pulled back, as if to escape, but Megatron would not let go. His fingers continued to knead into thin dermal plating and even more delicate receptors.

"It's good to have soldiers with your persistence around," Megatron teased and squeezed once more before letting go. Starscream limped in his lap, hands and fingers running down his massive chest. One claw left behind a very thin and dying line of pink and purple. When they stopped, they dug in hard. But Megatron kept calm and collected, infuriating the Seeker, even as the tyrant led his hands down his back, cupping his hips.

"I do my best to... please you, of course," Starscream crooned and smiled like a cat. His claws clicked to the metal he had managed to just barely dent. "Your persistence is equally... admirable."

Megatron brought a hand to his second's chest. Starscream could feel something wet and looked down. Ice from his back had melted on his leader's hands and now that cold liquid was running down his cockpit. The piercing yellow glass fogged up and he couldn't help but shiver. There was a sudden throb in his spark chamber at the sensation and he just had to arch, as if to draw away. But he moved his face forward, and it almost looked as if he were going to dive in for a kiss.

The older Decepticon continued to grope and rub the cold glass, before letting his fingers dig into the seam below his fuselage, just above his waist. Starscream tried not to gasp; rather, he attempted to move farther away, without actually leaving. He was torn. "You've suddenly become so uneasy," Megatron said, voice silky as his fingers probed the seam, taunting the cockpit to open.

"I-It's nothing," Starscream rasped. He placed a hand to Megatron's and the silver mech let it stay. As if testing him - push away or pull closer? Starscream couldn't seem to make a decision.

And Megatron was absolutely thrilled. "Was it not you who offered the invitation?" he whispered huskily. He leaned forward and once again their faceplates were nearly touching. Megatron let his fingers work at the seam, making it his and Starscream still did not know what to do. "You did not simply go out there to stretch your wings..." he purred, lips sliding beside his second's helm.

Starscream winced. "I... don't know what you're... talking about."

Megatron nabbed Starscream by the chin, forcing the jet to look him optic to optic. "Don't take me for a fool, Starscream," he crooned.

The Seeker grimaced. "Not..." he grumbled. His fuselage began to part and the moment he heard it click open, Starscream immediately regained all composure and flew back. Megatron let him go without care and the Seeker landed back on his pedes, a few feet from his leader's throne. His fuselage was clamped and closed securely again. Starscream appeared to have regained balance and order save for the pink lining the corners of his optics.

"I ought to get my work started," Starscream mumbled.

"You've still much time..."

"But I've very important and better things to do," the winged mech sneered.

Megatron just chuckled. "Perhaps your... other tasks can be completed," he mocked, "once you've gained enough confidence."

Starscream gave a mirthful laugh. "Oh, it's not my confidence that's the problem," he leered. Nonetheless, he bowed to his lord, wings flicking. "Now I must tend to my duties. You ought to recharge. We wouldn't want an exhausted leader telling us how to run a ship, you know."

"Soon," Megatron replied. He gestured a hand to the wings. "In the meantime, have Blackarachnia get those nasty dents out of you." He smiled sweetly. "Wouldn't want the others to think suspicious things, right?"

"Absolutely not," Starscream agreed. He stood straight and turned. Though rage was apparent in his blazing optics, so was amusement. Sheer, spine tingling, excited amusement.

What would come first? Surrender or death? A possible combination of both? And who would break first? Originally, Megatron was the one to fall under his seductive trance. Bring the tyrant down to his level, weaken him, take what you want and then leave him to die. But the more Starscream considered it, it seemed he was the one doing all the falling. So would this be a wining situation? A losing situation? Or both?

There was plenty of time to mull the decision over. After all, there is never any rest for the wicked.

END